


Old Blood

by ursweetheartless



Series: Straight Six [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: But No One Likes Him RN, Cannon Typical Violence - Mentioned, Dark!Tony, Darker!Bucky, Extremis Tony Stark, Hand Job, Like Hes Not In This, Like Not Super Dark But Kinda, M/M, Mirror Universe, Not Real Steve Rogers Friendly, Oral Sex, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, cannon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursweetheartless/pseuds/ursweetheartless
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes wasangry. It was just about the only thing he felt actually, aside from the suffocating coldemptinessthat never really faded even when the wipes started failing and the tattered bits of memory started to surface.The anger helped him. When the programming started to fail, he stoked that little fire in his gut until it was hot and vicious. He let it burn away the bits ofthe missionthat still clung to him, and he ran.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Straight Six [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720822
Comments: 6
Kudos: 293





	Old Blood

**Author's Note:**

> not beta read, so if you spot mistakes let me know.
> 
> i kno im supposed to be writing _other_ things but i finished this instead.
> 
> enjoy?

Sometimes the moon shines  
Like a beacon to the weary and the sick in spirit.  
And sometimes, sometimes it's dark.  
-[Straight Six, The Mountain Goats](https://youtu.be/BEn_XG9wPfc)

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes was _angry_. It was just about the only thing he felt actually, aside from the suffocating cold _emptiness_ that never really faded even when the wipes started failing and the tattered bits of memory started to surface. The anger helped him. When the programming started to fail, he stoked that little fire in his gut until it was hot and vicious. He let it burn away the bits of _the mission_ that still clung to him, and he ran.

The anger had a clear target. Maybe that was remnants of the programming, maybe it was the still calm place inside of him that made him a good sniper, but the anger he stoked in his chest had a mission of its own. Yeah, he hated Hydra, and once he could stop for a bit, he would make sure they suffered for every wipe he’d gone through, every second he’d spend in that chair, every scrap of himself he fought to reclaim, every time they stuffed him back into cryostorage to wait patiently until he was useful again. They had taken _so much_ from him, and he would raze them to the ground in time.

But he hated Steve Rogers _more._

They’d been the same once. Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers had been best friends, they’d fought side by side. They’d had each other’s backs. But Rogers had caught every break, and Bucky had stumbled over every roadblock put in his path. For best friends, for someone who promised _’till the end of the line_ , it didn’t seem like _Stevie_ had tried that hard to find him, when he fell. Steve had gone back to his _duty_ and his _best girl_ and left Bucky to suffer with Hydra. Even Steve’s time in the ice had been painless. He’d crashed down into the ice in a valiant effort to save everything and just stayed frozen. He’d gone down a hero, and he’d slept until he could come home a hero.

James didn’t have a home to go back to, not anymore. After he’d run, while he was hiding, he wrote down each and every little thing he remembered. He’d fought to piece himself back together. He’d tried to build himself a quiet life. It hadn’t been easy, or comfortable, but it had been enough. And Steve had fucked that up for him too, with his stupid apple pie smile and refusal to take no for an answer. No, Steve was a stubborn asshole, who felt like he _knew better_.

He’d considered just giving up. It would have been easy to let Steve think there was still a Bucky Barnes in there to save. He’d pulled together enough information from archived footage and newspaper articles and that godawful fawning museum exhibit that he could probably pull it off. If he got something wrong, well fuck you, he’d spent the last seventy years of his life having his brain broiled regularly. He was almost certain he could have held it together long enough to stab Steve Rogers in the back hard enough to snap the man in half, super soldier or not.

The idea of it made him sick though.

Luckily, he found an alternative. A possible ally.

Anthony Edward Stark, son of Howard Stark. Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. Noted skeptic about the greatness of _Captain America_. And he was Iron Man. Hydra had listed him as an enemy. _Threat level high, do not engage._ He had fought at Steve’s side too, once, but after the mess with Ultron, it didn’t seem like they were all that close anymore. It seemed like Rogers had dumped Tony on his ass, just like he’d left Bucky behind so long ago. It seemed like a perfect opportunity.

And everything about Stark was _interesting._

* * *

James had considered doing it at Stark Industries. It would have been easier in some ways. Sneaking into Stark’s newly rebuilt house in Malibu had been a better idea though. It had taken a lot of work, a showcase of his skills, but it was worth it.

It was also far easier to meet with an _unfortunate accident_ in the workshop than it would be in a corner office. James hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he was prepared for the eventuality.

He waited in the dark, sitting slumped down in a plush leather office chair he’d wheeled into the center for the room just so that he could spin it around dramatically once Stark showed up. James had built an extensive psychological profile of Stark during the intelligence gathering stage of the plan. He’d also watched a lot of cable television during the days he’d spent alone in Romania planning his revenge. He was sure Stark would appreciate the dramatic gesture.

For his part, Stark froze the moment he stepped into the lab. James could tell he’d been spotted almost immediately, from the slight increase in Stark’s heartbeat and the hitch in his breathing that indicated momentary shock and a spike of fight-or-flight adrenaline. Stark recovered quickly.

James could tell right away that they’d get along because Stark didn’t ask any stupid questions. Stark didn’t make threats either, or attempt to bargain. He just watched James spin to face him, hands steepled in front of him, grinning wickedly. Stark blinked once, slow and calculating, and then continued on his way. He shrugged off his ridiculously expensive suit coat and tossed it over one of the lab benches, and loosened his tie.

“If you’re here to murder me, at least let me have a drink first.” Stark quipped, tired but still sharp. “It’s been a _very_ long day at the office.”

Stark crossed to the back corner of the lab and pulled a bottle from one of the drawers. James could smell the edges of the scotch as soon as Stark opened it, smokey and well-aged and probably ridiculously expensive.

“I’m not here to kill you, Mr.Stark. I’m here with a proposition.” James said roughly, voice a gravelly growl from disuse. He didn’t bother hiding the edges of accents in his voice. A little bit Brooklyn, a little bit Russian, and an odd note of mid-atlantic accentless American english. It was a great feeling, not hiding any of it for the first time in a very long while.

Stark studied him carefully for a long moment before he poured out two glasses, and passed one to James with a cocked eyebrow and a grin.

“I’m all ears then, sweetheart.” Stark purred, hiding any remaining discomfort remarkably well behind the playboy mask. His eyes glowed gold at the edges, brighter than they should have been from the deep chocolate brown around his pupil. “ _Proposition_ me already.”

Stark’s expression was challenging, and James raised his glass in thanks.

“How do you feel about Hydra, Mr.Stark?” He asked conversationally, “and what is your opinion on crushing them?”

* * *

Apparently what James had proposed was called a team-up. Stark had been on board the moment he’d said _crush_ and _Hydra_ in the same sentence, but he’d let James finish the proposal anyway, which was kind. James had made it clear that he had his heart set on two things: crushing Hydra and breaking Steve Rogers. He also made it clear that he was more than willing to do whatever Stark wanted as well, as long as they kept a low profile while doing it.

Stark, as it turned out, wanted a lot of things. A lot of very specific things.

“Call me Tony, cupcake.” He’d demanded, “Mr.Stark was my dad, and he was kind of an asshole.” That was the first thing.

Tony made it two whole hours before he made his second demand.

The arm was functional, but only barely. He’d had to do some _emergency surgery_ on it when he’d first gone off the grid, to remove the trackers, and he hadn’t been that concerned with maintenance lately. He had definitely damaged a few of the more delicate connections somewhere along the line, and a few of the plates in the wrist were bent just enough that they scraped together as he moved. James wasn’t inclined to deny Stark whatever pleasure he’d get from fixing it.

It was still baffling, and sort of terrifying, when Stark had spun an amazingly accurate wireframe schematic of the arm out of thin air while he talked. Like _literally_ , he’d produced a hologram with a twist of his hands over the empty benchtop. It hung in the air between them for a long moment, just long enough for it to register, and then Stark had started pulling it apart. He tossed some virtual parts aside into the darkness and wove new ones to replace them with deft twists of his fingers. He explained each choice in enough detail that it was clear he knew what he was talking about, but used simple enough terms that James _understood_ , which was novel.

By the time he’d finished rebuilding the hologram arm, the first components he’d redesigned were already fabricated and ready for installation. It was fascinating, watching Stark work. He looked delighted, and in the soft light cast by the glowing components that floated around him Stark was _gorgeous._ James never wanted to leave.

It took Tony all of 4 hours to rebuild James’ arm, once he got going. He complained about the underlying structure the whole time — how the bolts and supports Hydra had attached to his fucking skeleton were inelegant and bad for his posture, how the plating in the fingers let too much dust and grime inside, how the cooling units weren’t powerful enough, the list just kept going — but he followed it with a promise to replace the whole godawful thing as soon as he could. He knew some people, he could pull a few strings.

James didn’t have much he could offer in return for that, but he gladly handed over everything he could remember about Hydra, including base locations and system codes. He might not have gotten much in the way of intelligence first hand — he was a reluctant weapon, not a willing agent — but he picked up information over time. Without the constant sessions in the chair, things were coming back to him in fits and starts.

It hadn’t seemed like much, especially in the face of what Tony had already done, but Friday added it to the data Tony already had, from the SHIELD dump and his own research, and it definitely filled in more than a few holes in the map.

It took a few days for James to find something to demand. He woke up from his usually light and fitful sleep to find the house empty. He checked every corner of the mansion. He didn’t spend much time upstairs because the insane amount of windows made him nervous and twitchy, and Tony had built the lower levels to have everything they needed. It was a glaring reminder of exactly who he’d teamed up with though, wandering through the palatial and richly decorated upstairs rooms.

Friday refused to tell him where Tony was, but she did confirm that he wasn’t in the house when James finally asked her that specific question.

“Boss is out taking care of Iron Man business Sergeant Barnes,” Friday told him. That left him with plenty of time to fume and plan while Tony was out there on his own. He had made Friday promise to let him know if Tony needed his help, which hadn’t actually been that difficult. They clearly had different definitions of _needed help_ , because Tony came back ten hours later, and he staggered off of the Iron Man gantry as soon as the suit started to melt off of him.

The sight was conflicting. James settled for scooping Tony into his arms and carrying him over to the nearest lab bench. Tony wasn’t entirely on board with that, but his struggles had been kind of half-assed at best. He looked exhausted and beat to shit, like he’d gone ten rounds in a ring and lost every one.

“I could have made it over here on my own, Terminator, but go off I guess,” Tony said as James set him firmly on the benchtop. James mostly ignored him, as he steadied Tony’s head between his hands and checked his pupil response. “And actually, go on ahead with that. Between the sweeping me off my feet and the carrying me around like it’s _nothing_ you’re going to give me a complex, but at least I’ll enjoy the process. And _hey_ ,” Tony barked, trying to twist away as James started to peel away the undersuit to check for other injuries, “at least buy me _dinner_ first.”

James rolled his eyes but kept going until he was satisfied. Tony had some bruises down one side that seemed tender, and his eyes still looked a little glazed over, but he wasn’t badly hurt. James pushed the hair off of Tony’s forehead, sticky with sweat, and raised Tony’s face until their eyes met.

“Next time,” he said, not really growling but almost, “I’m coming with you. You have backup now.”

Tony licked his lips nervously and James watched the movement with careful eyes. Tony broke out into a slow smile.

“Were you worried about me sweetheart? I can take care of myself.” Tony said, firmly, “and maybe stop it with the touching and the bedroom eyes there, Snowflake, you’re giving me _ideas_.”

James studied him, and when the implication dawned on him he smiled slowly. He didn’t remember much from before Hydra, but he’d never had a hard time finding a bed partner. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, not since Hydra had captured him at least. He wouldn’t mind taking Tony for a tumble if the opportunity presented itself.

James looked Tony up and down, carefully, with purpose, before he answered.

“I dunno, Tony. You’re a genius, usually, you’ve got great ideas, doll.” He purred, and Tony’s grin widened.

“Oh, _James_ , don’t say it if you don’t mean it. It’s rude to lead a fella on like that, red dawn.” Tony said, fisting his hands into the side of James’ shirt lightly. James leaned forwards and kissed him, hard and fast.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, sugar.” James said against his lips.

* * *

Once they’d acknowledged it as a possibility, there was a lot more touching around the base. It didn’t get much further than a few heated kisses for whatever reason, but James found he was fine with that for the moment. It was a slightly depressing thought, but James really enjoyed human contact without the intention of causing pain.

The first time he’d plastered himself against Tony’s back, holding his hip while he reached up to grab a glass from the cupboard, Tony had gone still and tense. He let Tony take the reins from there, but he gave as good as he got once Tony initiated contact. He absolutely treasured each hitched breath and small moan Tony let out in those moments. He was admittedly not as good at the game of it, still hesitant where he shouldn’t be, but he gave as good as he got when _Tony_ started it. It was new and exciting and, for a while, it was more than enough.

* * *

That particular fight hadn’t gone as well as they’d hoped. They’d moved on from near abandoned bases, and Hydra was starting to catch on. Still, they’d razed the base, and mirrored the servers, and they’d slaughtered every Hydra soldier they’d come across. They hadn’t suffered any life-threatening injuries either, but the armor had been visibly damaged, and James could see the bruises blooming across Tony’s neck and shoulder as the armor melted off of him on the gantry. James remembered each hit Tony had taken, and every time his heart had skipped a beat or two before Tony had spoken up on the coms again.

He was itching to drag Tony over to the back bench, where the first aid kit was already open from the last shop accident, as soon as Tony stepped down from the gantry. Tony fixed him with a scowl when their eyes met though, all cold steel and no fire.

“Bench, now.” Tony barked, rolling his shoulder as he walked with purpose, “I can _hear_ the goddamn servos in your shoulder skipping from here. It’s driving me crazy, and I can’t even _feel_ it.” Tony said it with the surety of a man who was used to being obeyed, and James gritted his teeth.

“Let me make sure you’re not hurt first.” He countered, “I’m still perfectly functional.”

“Nope.” Tony didn’t even pause, still headed towards the maintenance bench, the one he’d converted to support the shoulder while the arm was disengaged from James’ nervous system. “I’ve got a few bruises, nothing bad. They’ll be gone before morning. The grating from your arm isn’t helping the headache I’m getting, though.” James was only a few steps behind him, though he stubbornly refused to sit in the chair once they reached it, crossing his arms in front of him instead.

“Boss also has a torn rotator cuff and several bruised ribs,” Friday added, and Tony sent a glare towards the ceiling, eyes tinged gold in the way they went when he was accessing the compound’s network directly.

“It’s all superficial damage. I’ll be fine. Unlike your arm, my shit will heal itself, and I may not be all super-soldier-serumed up like you, but I got my own secret sauce going on.” Tony said, still sharp around the edges, “Now up in the chair please, Muder Bear, so I can _fix_ you.”

Tony already had a driver in his hand, the one he used to pop open the plates on James’ arm, and DUM-E was dutifully gathering things from the storage wall across the lab, each tiny drawer labeled with a barcode and a long string of numbers that was nonsense to James.

He knew this was a losing battle, but James still wanted to push back, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through him, and the memory of each hit Tony had taken still playing behind his eyes.

“Just give me a minute, Tony. One minute to assess your injuries.” James said it like a request, but it wasn’t really. Tony wasn’t opening his arm until James could tell he wasn’t badly hurt with his own two eyes. They watched each other silently for a moment, Tony wearing that slightly unfocused look he got when he was talking to Friday, eyes blazing gold still. Then he sighed heavily, like James had asked him for a painful and degrading personal favor, and a holo-display flickered to life beside him in the air, displaying his vital statistics.

“I’m _fine_ Tasty Freeze, honest.” Tony said as he wiggled his way out of the undersuit, leaving his bare chest on display, arc reactor shining in the half-light of the lab. “I’m not a squishy baseline human, and I didn’t get that banged up, so there isn’t anything to worry about here, sugar.”

James slid his eyes over Tony’s bare torso for a heartbeat before he moved in. The bruising around his neck and shoulder was already dark, a deep grey around the curve of his neck that faded out to a sickly yellow at the edges. That would probably be gone by morning. He felt the edges of it with his fingers lightly, and carefully pushed Tony’s shoulder up to roll the joint gently in the socket until he saw Tony start to wince. He trailed his fingers down Tony’s side, where the bruises were already a yellow color, and everything felt in order. The ribs were most likely bruised, not broken.

That took him less than a minute, so James took his remaining 15 seconds or so to gently drag his fingers back over Tony’s shoulder, skating over the ridge of his collarbone and tracing up to his jaw with a smile. Tony stared at him, almost pouting, and James wanted to kiss him.

“What’s the verdict then, doctor? Am I going to live?” Tony griped, and James just nodded, resting their foreheads together for a moment before he slid into the chair, and propped his arm up in maintenance position.

Tony didn’t bother putting a shirt on or fixing the undersuit, he just got to work. James was more than content to just watch him do it. Tony opened the first panel, and popped the rest of them off one by one, from the wrist all the way to the shoulder. James knew he didn’t _need_ to take every one of them off to fix the gears that were grinding, but he didn’t mention it. He never minded when Tony opened him up.

It was an odd sensation. He couldn’t actually _feel_ what Tony was doing inside the arm — he didn’t have sensation on the inside unless the wires were seriously damaged, — but he still got an odd, displaced static of sensory feedback as the wires shifted under Tony’s careful fingers. It was a pleasant feeling, a shivery slide down his spine each time.

And the moment Tony fixed the problem, connecting the new servo, James could feel that too. It wasn’t a big change, because it hadn’t exactly hurt before, but he could feel the baseline shift when it was fixed. The shoulder just felt _better_ afterwards.

Before leaving Hydra, before _Tony_ , the technicians would never have fixed something like that. James would never have brought something so minor to their attention. He probably wouldn’t have brought it to Tony either, if Tony hadn’t pushed the issue.

He waited until Tony was done, and each plate was carefully slid back into place. Tony leaned back to gather his tools and materials, looking exhausted, and James leaned forwards. He slid both hands, one warm flesh, and the other cool metal, to cup the sides of Tony’s neck, careful to avoid the still tender areas. Tony’s eyes were tired when he looked up, and James pulled him forwards gently into a deep, wet kiss.

“Damn, Terminator,” Tony said when James pulled back, voice deeper than before, “if this is the thanks I get for giving you a tune-up I gotta make sure to keep on top of that.”

James smiled at him, crooked and hot, and leaned forwards as he stood, pulling Tony back into another kiss as he towered over him for a moment. Then he dropped to his knees, pushing Tony’s hips back against the edge of the bench he’d been working on.

This was a step forward, so he met Tony’s eyes purposefully, giving him a chance to say something if he wanted to, but Tony bit his lip and cupped the back of James’ head, fingers twining into his hair. He took this as consent and got to work pulling the bottom of the under-suit away from Tony’s cock, already hard when he wrapped his fingers around it. That only fed the heat in his stomach, the desire curled around the base of his spine.

James closed his eyes as he slid his mouth over the head of Tony’s cock. He relished the small breathy moan Tony let out, and the way his hands tightened in James’ hair. He couldn’t remember doing this before, but he must have because there was instinct involved, when he relaxed into it.

His throat still spasmed as the head of Tony’s cock bumped against it, and he had to pull back, coughing and gasping for breath for a moment. He was determined though, and when he sunk back down he was prepared. He managed it that time, and the slight discomfort was worth the noise Tony made, sweet and filthy.

Tony’s fingers tightened in his hair, and his hips thrust forward once or twice, fucking James’ throat shallowly a few times before he came. The first bit went straight down his throat, but Tony pulled back enough that most of it landed hot and bitter over his tongue. James gasped for breath, swallowing and flexing his jaw a bit, but he kept a hold on Tony’s hips, kept his soft cock on his tongue until Tony pulled back.

James blinked up at him, dazed and warm, and Tony cupped his cheeks as he slid down to James’ level, sealing their mouths together in a wet filthy kiss. James lost his breath again as Tony pulled it out of him, sharing the taste of Tony between them until it faded. James made a needy sort of noise when Tony pulled back, still stunned.

He didn’t realize how hard he was until Tony palmed across the front of his pants, enough pressure to tease, but not enough to satisfy.

“God, Tony, _please_.” He rasped out, throat sore from the rough treatment.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Tony whispered back, fumbling with James’ pants, getting them down just enough to wrap his hand around James’ cock, “anything.” He crowded in, kissing him deep again.

James had been thinking about this moment since that first kiss. He hadn’t actually done anything about it — not even by himself — he hadn’t felt comfortable with that. Thinking about Tony that way was one thing, but touching himself while he did it? That felt weird when Tony hadn’t given any indication he wanted more.

It felt _amazing._ James couldn’t remember what sex was like, nothing more than a vague sense of desire. Tony knew exactly what he was doing though. He twisted his wrist just right and used his thumb to gather the moisture pearled at the tip of James’ cock to ease the friction of his strokes.

“Is that it, sugar?” Tony purred, breathless and warm between kisses. James nodded as well as he could without pulling away and held tight to Tony’s shoulders. Tony smelled like sweat and cum, and the orgasm snuck up on him. It crashed over him, and he whimpered through his bitten lip as he came, pulling Tony in close. When he slumped back afterward, feeling boneless and weak, Tony came after him. Tony shifted them so that he could lay his head on James’ shoulder as they sprawled out across the floor of the lab. Tony relaxed once he settled there, and traced random patterns across his chest as they caught their breath.

Tony smiled up at him, tilting his head to look without actually moving himself much. James melted, returning the smile.

“Hi,” Tony said, sweet and almost shy. James ran a hand through his hair and leaned up to kiss him on the forehead.

It wasn’t perfect, there was so much left to do, but lying on the floor of a basement lab in Malibu, James felt like a person again. And, with Tony there smiling down at him, he felt like they could do it. Together, they could take on the world.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer, so there may be more eventually, but I'm cleaning up my WIP folder right now, so who knows when. tomorrow? next week? in several years? no clue.
> 
> come yell at me on tunglr im @[ursweetheartless](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ursweetheartless)


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